Theresa Raquin

aux Vins, where he rented a small furnished room at 18 francs a month. This attic, pierced at the top by a lift-up

t the cheap eating-houses where he took his dinner, smoking his pipe and sipping his coffee and brandy which cost him three sous.

ree sous his coffee and brandy cost him, and gluttonously swallowed the excellent tea prepared by Madame Raquin. He remained there until ten o'clock,

on the morrow. A canvas was purchased, minute preparations made, and the artist at last took the

ters. He copied the face of Camille with a hesitating hand, as a pupil copies an academical figure, with a clumsy exactitude that conveyed a scowl to the face. On the fourth day, he placed tiny little

amille were in ecstasies. But Laurent said they

had been transformed into a studio. Leaving her aunt alone behind the counter,

ery much. She came to the spot, as though attracted by some power, and she remained, as if riveted there. Laurent at times turned round, with a s

easoned with himself at length, discussing in his mind

always there, behind my back, examining, measuring me, summing me up. She trembles. She has a str

as he thought of his pale,

they would not often catch me in the Arcade of the Pont Neuf. It is damp and sad. A woman must

the better of him. Absorbed in thou

I shall kiss her at the first opportunit

walk, he was seize

mouth. Besides, I have not the least love for her. I shall pe

e adventure, when he felt convinced that it could be attended by no evil consequences. Therese would have every interest to conceal their intimacy, and he could get rid of her whenever he pleas

ity. In the future he saw comfortable evenings, with all the Raquins contributing to his enjoyment: Therese giving him her love, M

Camille, and Laurent was in despair at being unable to get rid of him. Nevertheless, the time came when he found himself obliged to mention that the portrait

even the brightest colours, without making them dull and muddy. In spite of himself he had exaggerated the wan complexion of his model, and the countenance of Camille resembled the greenish visage of a person who had met death by drow

uld go and fetch a couple of bottles of champagne. Madame Raqu

it, and played with his brushes. There was not much time to lose. Camille might come back, and the opportunity

d the young woman to him. Throwing back her head he crushed her mouth beneath his lips. She made a savage, an